


Lucky's Strays

by Talliya



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky was a high ranking officer in said Army., But I'm not sure if it's graphic enough for the warning, I'm putting it anyway though., I've no idea yet where this is really going..., Lucky features strongly in this fic., M/M, Multi, Natasha. Wanda. Maria. and Bruce all work for the VA (Veteran's Affairs)., Steve initially went to college. Then tried to join and flunked out., There are descriptions of wounds in this, This is an AU where Clint was in the U.S. Army., cussing/cursing, so stay tuned?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 10:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talliya/pseuds/Talliya
Summary: Lucky was always bringing people who needed help to his door, Clinton liked to call them 'strays'. Helping people out was something he enjoyed, so it was never really a problem. This time however, his heart got involved.





	Lucky's Strays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).

> I do not own any rights to Marvel Cinematic Universe or its characters (Or any other Marvel anything that may be used/referenced within). This work is not for profit.
> 
> This was started as a foil to CB's Gundam Wing birthday gift 'Safe and Sound', as I killed Quatre in that one and it hurts me... but like, this was supposed to be all fluffy and funny... and now it's NOT, so I'm sorry. I make terrible birthday gifts, never allow me to make you one unless you want your soul crushed. lol

This was wrong. The apartment was empty... He was _missing_! Clinton searched high and low in his apartment. He was here literally two minutes ago! Where was Lucky?!?!!

Clinton ran up and down the busy streets of Manhattan calling for Lucky. He got nothing for it but grumpy people yelling for him to shut up, ugly glares, and sore feet. Defeated he headed back to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he pushed it in and there he was, seated on the chest of a rather banged up man with a metal arm. Another man was kneeling beside them attempting to staunch the flow of blood from the metal armed man’s shoulder.

Clinton blinked, slowly moved inside the room, and closed and locked the door behind him. “Lucky, do you have to drag in all the strays?”

The dog gave him a happy sounding bark in reply and moved off of the man. Clinton shook his head and stepped over the downed man, jumping several feet in the air to clear the arm the other man shot out to try and stop him with. “Hey now, this MY home, and I don’t care if the dog let you in. _I_ didn’t so you are committing a crime by being here... bleeding all over my linoleum.”

He headed for the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink, holding it up as a shield as he came back. “This might work better than whatever it was that you’re currently using.”

The skinny blonde man looked up at him, tears staining his sculpted cheeks. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m not sure what to do. It’s all my fault.”

Clinton shook his head, “How about you move over and lift his head into your lap alright? Is he conscious at all?”

It would figure Lucky would ‘go missing’ just to bring back some blokes who needed help. He watched as the man moved, a fluid grace to it that had Clinton reassessing his ‘skinny’ assessment. The man was emaciated, not just skinny, his clothes hung loose where muscle and fatty tissue used to be. Clinton was now even more concerned for them both. The man with the metal arm groaned as his head was moved blinking open pained brown eyes before closing them again.

The blonde man looked up at Clinton, “Um, well, kind of?”

Clinton snorted and knelt by the metal armed man’s side and opened the kit. “What happened?”

There was a long silence in which Clinton pulled out everything he thought he’d need, then finally looked up into guilty blue eyes for an answer. “Well, he... he came in to get me out. I’d stopped a burglary a month or so before, and the mob behind it wasn’t exactly thrilled. They set a trap for me in my apartment. I never saw it coming. They’ve had me for a couple of weeks at least. I’m not actually sure of the time anymore. Bucky busted in this morning, this metal thing I’ve never seen before attached to him, and broke me out of my restraints and the building I was in. He got shot as we were rounding a corner three blocks from the place. Then that dog came racing up to us. Honestly I thought he was sent by them, but he growled whenever we chose a direction that led to more mobsters, and led us here. Um, the door wasn’t locked.”

Clinton snorted again, of course it wasn’t. He’d yet to learn Lucky’s secret to opening the door himself, but it was rather irritating sometimes. Though, he was sure the man had been captured for far longer than he thought, if his muscles were so atrophied that his clothes hung off him all wrong. “It’s alright,” He looked down at his impromptu patient and winced, “Looks like he beat the shit outta a lotta people to get to you. But, we’ll patch this hole up first. I’ll need your help to get his shirt off so I can see the damage.”

The man nodded his head, lifting his partially conscious friend so Clinton could bunch his shirt up and off of him. It took a bit of finagling, but they managed it with the man only giving out a single pained groan when they had to move the arm on the injured shoulder. There was extensive bruising on the man’s torso and back, but no cuts or anything besides the bullet wound, which seemed to have gone clear through his shoulder from the back. Clinton winced, that must have hurt like a bitch. He set to work cleaning it up with the clean rags he kept with the kit, giving the man a small shot to numb the area. He saw the full body jerk the blonde man made as he’d pulled out the syringe and gave him a look, “It’s just a numbing agent, I’m gonna have to stitch up both sides.”

The anesthetic was something he would never have had if he hadn’t been an Army Medic for seven years. He always kept some around just in case now, even though he didn’t work as a medical provider of any kind anymore. A reluctant nod was given and Clinton set to work sterilizing a needle while the agent took affect. When he was ready, he moved the man’s arm up to test if it was numb enough, no sound was made but he met tired brown eyes when he checked his face for signs of pain. Clinton gave him his ‘signature’ grin, “We’ll stitch up the back first.” The eyes fell closed and Clinton looked up at the blonde man, “Help me move him, and hold him steady?”

Together they moved the man onto his side and the blonde cradled him as best he could while Clinton set to work. He worked as quickly as he could, knowing that the anesthetic would wear off soon, placing a bandage over it when he was done. “Alright, let’s turn him back over.”

He stitched up the front and placed a bandage over it as well, then he cleaned everything up. He placed the med kit on the counter and then looked them both over critically. He found nothing more than bruising and tiredness though. He couldn’t tell if anything was broken on either of them without patting them down, and that just seemed inappropriate at the moment. “Let’s move you guys to the living room. Are you hungry at all?”

The blonde man blinked at him, just blinked and shook his head before moving to lift the brunette’s shoulders off the floor. Clinton picked up his legs and they moved him as gently and as quickly as they could to his beat-up old couch. The man barely fit on it. Luckily he wasn’t as tall as the two blondes, who Clinton had noticed where much of a height. The blonde took the recliner next to where the brunette's head was, and stared worriedly at the man.

Clinton gave the scene a half smirk and shook his head, “I’m Clint, by the way. I’ll make us all some lunch.”

Lucky barked and wagged his tail at that, heading back into the kitchen and opening a cupboard. Clinton groaned as it banged open. “Lucky! Can you wait five seconds?!?”

He turned back to the kitchen himself, shooing the dog out before grabbing his bowl and scooping him out some dry food. He placed the dish down and got Lucky fresh water as well before pulling out the makings for sandwiches. “Hey, either of you have any allergies?”

A low voice answered his question, sending delicious chills up his spine that he immediately mentally slapped himself for. “No, no allergies.”

He was assuming it was the brunette, whose torso was a piece of sculpted art already. /NO! No lewd thoughts Barton!/ “Anything you won’t eat?”

A labored chuckle, “What were you planning on making?”

Clinton tilted his head as he stared into the depths of his refrigerator, “Well, initially I was going to make tuna sandwiches. I’ve got both dill and sweet relish for it if it’s wanted. But, I’ve also got ham or turkey if you’d prefer.”

Two voices sounded in unison, “Tuna’s good.”

Another chill went down Clinton’s spine and he determined that their voices together could drive a Nun to sin. He pulled himself together and set out the makings for tuna sandwiches and set to work. He was glad he’d gone shopping recently and had eight large cans of tuna around. He made up three of them. “Either of you want relish? Or just the plain tuna?”

The low voice answered, “I’ll take sweet relish please.”

“I’ll have dill. Um, did you need any help?” The voice he knew to be the blonde’s asked.

Clinton grinned as he slathered half the sandwiches in dill relish and the other in sweet relish. He liked both equally so it didn’t matter to him. He stacked the sandwiches on a serving tray and brought them to the table. “Nope, I’m good. You guys want anything to drink? I’ve got water, can make some hot tea, but you’d have to wait for that. I should have some sweet tea in the fridge, and milk... and orange juice I think. That sounds like a terrible thing to drink with tuna sandwiches though.”

A crooked grin from the man on his couch nearly liquefied his knees but he rallied in time for it to be turned into him adjusting his stance instead. “I’ll take water, thank you for this.”

Clinton waved a hand, “It’s no problem. How about you?”

A trying too hard smile met him, “Um, uh, water’s fine. Thank you.”

Clinton nodded and headed back to the kitchen. He grabbed three glasses, filled two with water and another with milk before returning to the coffee table. “Alright,” He set a glass of water before each of them and then pointed at the platter. “This half is sweet relish, and the other half is dill.”

He grabbed a sandwich from each stack and sat on the floor on the other side of the table from them. He was too busy stuffing tuna into his face to see the disgusted looks they gave him, he didn’t miss their in unison comment however. “How can you _like_ that stuff?”

Clinton glanced up at them, saw their identical looks of horror and choked on his sandwich laughing. “I like both dill and sweet, it’s why I have both in my fridge. Some days I want one, other days I want the other.”

He shrugged and went back to eating, gesturing for them to do the same. The blonde grabbed a dill sandwich and took a bite with a thoughtful expression. Once it was gone he took a swallow of his water and looked back at Clinton, “I’m Steve by the way, and that’s-.”

The brunette waving his uninjured arm in the air cut him off, “I’m James, but this dork calls me Bucky. Sorry I bled all over your linoleum.”

Clinton nodded before finishing his latest sandwich, he may have been out of it, but it was evident the man had been paying attention to his surroundings. “Nice to meet you, and don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time there’s been blood on my floor. Though, usually it’s my own.”

James gave a weak smile and it was only then that Clinton realized he hadn’t eaten anything yet. “Oh shit, do you need help sitting up? It isn’t exactly conducive to eat while lying down.”

The man winced, grimaced and then nodded shortly. Clinton and Steve rose at the same time and managed between them to get him up. Clinton sat back down and watched, hiding an amused smile, as Steve hovered until James glared at him and he sat back down. He took another sandwich from the sweet relish pile and finished off his milk. He watched with satisfaction as Steve ate all of the dill relish sandwiches and had seconds on water. The man was far too thin.

Once the food was gone and Lucky, the traitor, was curled up at Steve’s feet, Clinton stood up and took the dishes to the kitchen. He washed the dishes and put them away, and then cleaned up his entryway. He’d been hoping the time would give him the words he needed, but by the time he was finished he still didn’t know how to go about asking them what was next for them.

With a mental and physical shake of his head he headed back into his living room. James was engulfed in the middle cushion of his couch, head back, resting with his eyes closed. Clinton wasn’t sure he _wasn’t_ asleep. Steve was slowly petting Lucky’s head like he was worried but didn’t want others to know.

Clinton sighed and sat down in the only other chair in the room, the one at his tiny computer desk. “So, I’m assuming going back home isn’t an option for the two of you?”

Steve jerked his hand away from the dog so fast he made Lucky twitch away from him, startled. Clinton blinked at him, saying nothing until the blonde could pull himself together. Steve rubbed a hand over his face and let out a huge sigh before offering Lucky his hand again and apologizing to the dog for scaring him. Clinton’s mouth quirked up in a half smile.

“To be honest, I realize we’re in your apartment and all, but I don’t even know where we are.” Steve kept his gaze on Lucky, his shoulders twitching warily.

Clinton could understand that, he had mentioned he’d just been broken out of some place. “Well, this is Manhattan...”

Steve settled back into his seat, “That’s not so bad then. We live in Brooklyn, but, you’re probably right. I mean, they caught me in my own place to begin with. Damn.”

James sat straight up and turned an incredulous gaze onto Steve, “Steven Grant Rogers, how dare?”

Startled, all the two blondes could do was stare at him for a moment, then Steven began laughing uncontrollably. Clinton blinked, “What?”

James chuckled and turned to Clinton, “Sorry, he just doesn’t curse very often. I have to poke fun at it while I can.”

A chuckle left him and he shook his head, “Fair enough I guess. You’re both welcome to stay here if you’d like. I’ve only the one guest room, but it’s got a queen sized bed if you don’t mind sharing. And there’s the couch of course if you don’t want to share. You can wait until things blow over, or I can help you can settle things with the cops? Whichever you’d like.”

Brown and blue eyes alike stared at him in acute shock. He blinked back at them, “What?”

“I...” Steven started.

“We couldn’t...” James began, then they looked at each other, shrugged helplessly, and James continued, “We’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

Clinton smirked, “Hey, as I said, it’s not a problem. And I’m sure I’ve got clothes that’ll fit both of you around here somewhere if you’d like to change? Can even go out and get you whatever you need if you’d like to just lie low for a while.”

Both men looked totally flummoxed and Clinton couldn’t hide his chuckles. Once he finally settled a bit, Lucky looking at him like he’d lost his mind, Clinton shook his head. “Sorry if it seems super strange that a stranger would help so much. I was in the Army for a long time and... I don’t know, helping any way I can now just makes me feel productive?”

James gave him a thoughtful look, “S’that why you could stitch me up? Were you a medic?”

Clinton nodded, “A medic for seven years. Then, well I lost everyone I knew in a matter of days, barely made it out myself, and just... couldn’t anymore.”

He shrugged into the suddenly heavy silence and his gaze fell to Lucky who had come over and plopped himself on Clinton’s feet. He reached down to absently pet the dog, his gaze drawn back up as Steven asked, “So where’d you get Lucky?”

Clinton chuckled, “I didn’t. Lucky got me.”

He watched as they exchanged a look and then gave him identical looks that made him question his own sanity. “Look, you know how Lucky found the two of you and brought you here?” They nodded, “He did the same with me. Though, I guess a bit different. I’d been back in the US for a little over a year and wasn’t doing well. I was so depressed that I stopped going to my medical evals and psych appointments even though the government was paying for them. Nothing helped. I’ve never been much of a drinker but the first few weeks I was home I tried to drown out the memories. I stopped when I realized that alcohol simply made them clearer in my mind. Then I did odd jobs, anything I could get to try and take my mind off of things.”

He shook his head, “A man with a gun tried to rob a bar where I was a bartender one night. The cops were called on me, because I nearly killed him. I was sent to this ‘Camp’ for rehabilitation. It worked only because I was terrified of myself, that I could blackout and hurt someone like that. It was an awful feeling. I got this apartment shortly after leaving the camp, my handler told me this was a good place to start again. She wasn’t wrong.”

Clinton paused for a long while lost in thought before Lucky licked his hand and jolted him back to the present. “Sorry, Lucky found me out on the docks shortly after I’d just gotten news that everyone from my battalion was dead now. They found the last two MIAs in an underground bunker. They’d been ripped apart for some ritual or something. I was watching the ocean, not sure if I wanted to jump or if it was just soothing, I was pretty spaced out at the time. But, Lucky wandered up all covered in mud and grim and plopped himself in my lap. I just... broke down then.”

A soft chuckle left him and he began petting Lucky steadily. “He just kind of stuck to me after that. I looked everywhere for about a year to see if he had an owner, took him to vet appointments to make sure he was alright and not chipped or anything. And then just, kept him when no one else claimed him. He does randomly bring people here, like yourselves, who are in need of help though.”

“Huh.” Both voices sounded rather impressed and Clinton blushed a bit while Lucky swaggered back to Steven’s side.

“Hey now, don’t you go gettin’ all cocky there doggo. You’re ego’s big enough already.” Clinton chuckled, “So, what would you two like to do?”

His watch beeped and for a panicked moment his heart stopped beating, “Oh shit! Um, shit... my uh, handler is supposed to come by today, in like 20 minutes. But she’s always early. Uh, neither of you have criminal records or anything right?”

Steven and James looked at each other, “No, I was in the Army, Steve lucked out and went to college on a scholarship instead. But, why do you need a handler, if you went to that camp thing?”

The smile slid off of Clinton’s face and Lucky immediately returned to lay his head in Clinton’s lap, offering up a paw as well. Clinton looked at the floor and sucked in a deep breath, his hands automatically finding Lucky’s paw and head. He tried to speak, but couldn’t get the sound out.

James’ voice brought him back from that bleak moment in time when most of his team died around him. “I guess that would be why?” Clinton could hear the wince in his voice and wanted to look up and tell him it was nothing, to smile and say he was alright, but it was obvious that even after all this time, he was far from alright. All he could do was nod weakly and scratch behind Lucky’s ears.

The rapid-fire knock on his door made him flinch, Lucky barked. The knocking turned into a key in the lock and a soft Russian accent asking, “Hawkeye, you alright?”

“I’m... fine?” His voice was small, but he didn’t want her to worry more than she probably already was. He looked down at Lucky sadly and gave him a pat on the head as he spoke to him, “Traitor.”

Lucky gave a happy wiggle and waltzed back to Steven. Clinton gripped the arms of his chair and sat up straight, trying his best to get more air into his lungs so he could _breathe_ as his handler walked into the room.

“Why does your entryway smell of disinfectant?”

“Romanoff?” James’ voice was surprised, “And, wait, _you’re_ Hawkeye? Like, **THE** Hawkeye. The medic that shot arrows at people to keep his team alive during an evac?”

Clinton’s jaw worked, but no words came out, he was kind of surprised that James would know about that. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge. In fact, he was sure most of it was still classified, so James must have had a rather high rank for it to have crossed his path at all. He closed his mouth with a lick of suddenly dry lips and looked over at Natasha.

“Mr. Barnes...” Natasha’s gaze went from one pair of blue eyes to the next before landing on brown. “What are you doing here?”

Clinton finally relaxed and sighed, “Lucky.”

The look that appeared on Natasha’s face said she wanted that to not be explanation enough, but she knew it was and hated it. She cocked her head at the dog who simply flipped his tail at her and nuzzled his head into Steven’s lap for more pets. She rolled her eyes expressively before shaking her head. “Alright, but why did Lucky bring them here? And what the actual fuck happened to your arm Barnes? Is this why you missed our session last week?”

Clinton side-eyed her before raising his brows at James. So, Natasha was his handler too?

James sighed, “I um, yeah, kinda. This idiot,” he pointed at Steven, “Got nabbed by the mob, so, I tried to get him out... but got caught, and I’m not entirely sure why they changed out my regular prosthetic with this metal thing, but it was damned helpful in finally getting Steve out.”

Huh, so he’d lost his arm before this... Clinton’s thoughts were interrupted by Steven’s shocked gasp. “Wait, your arm wasn’t really, _your_ arm? Since fucking when?!”

James blinked at him, “Um, since my last tour, it’s kinda why it was my last.”

Steven was half out of his seat, Lucky whining under the coffee table, “You son-of-a-.”

“Enough Rogers.” Natasha’s voice cut through the tension like the knives Clinton knew she was so good with. “He doesn’t _need_ to tell you everything all the time. Though, I had expected you to know by now...”

There was a pregnant silence after her words in which Lucky came out from under the table and jumped up on Steven, effectively knocking him back onto his chair. The blonde seemed frozen somehow, but Clinton was unsure of how to help, or even if he could.

James Barnes... hmmm, the name was vaguely familiar. He couldn’t seem to put his mental finger on it though, so he opted to worry about it later. “Anyway, apparently Lucky found them shortly after their escape from the mob and brought them here. I swear, I was only in the bathroom for five minutes, trying to fix that stupid drain. I came out, no dog. So, I went looking for him. When I gave up and came back, here they were, bleeding out in my entrance-way.”

James winced, “Sorry about that.”

“Wait, bleeding out. You’re hurt?” Natasha’s eyes narrowed at James once again.

James’ mouth fished about, so Clinton swooped in like the so-called ‘Hero’ he was, “It’s a through and through to the shoulder connected to an actual arm. He’ll be fine though.”

Natasha’s face twisted up a bit before she took a deep breath and sighed it out, relaxing her stance and turning to face Clinton. “Alright Clint, I’m going to assume, besides this, everything’s been going okay?”

Clinton nodded, “Yeah, it’s been great. I did manage to help out with the blood draw for the Red Cross, and that soup kitchen you’d mentioned. Um, actually, I’m kind of hoping you guys got some old folks coming in due to the soup kitchen visit. I went around talking to all the Vets that came in. Telling them that, y’know, even if they were currently homeless they could still get medical and whatnot through the VA.”

Natasha smiled, “We got a few, some who’d been lost to the system for a while. It was nice to see they were doing okay.” She chuckled, “Wanda was wondering why there were suddenly so many new faces. I should have guessed it was your fault.”

Clinton’s hand went to the back of his neck, “Well, you know me, gotta help out where I can.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed fondly and shook her head. Then she turned her gaze back toward Steven and James, and none of them were really sure who she was speaking to, “I’m going to assume they’ll be staying here for a while?”

Knowing the words themselves were directed at him, Clinton nodded, “Yeah, until the mob settles down at least. Or we figure out something else to do.”

Natasha’s gaze pinned the other two men to their seats, clearly stating that she expected them to stay with Clinton whether they liked it or not. Steven seemed to be calming down, with Lucky nuzzling at his hands again. James simply nodded his head numbly. She gave a sharp nod, “Good. Then I’ll know where to find you on Thursday.”

James groaned and flopped back against the couch, a pained hiss leaving him as it jolted his injury. Clinton winced in sympathy and Steven turned to him with a concerned expression. Natasha suppressed a snort, but the grin she didn’t bother hiding. “Well then, I’ll leave you boys to it. Seems like there’s some explaining and getting to know one another to do.”

She turned back to Clinton, “Make sure to keep your evaluation appointment next week, alright?”

Clinton nodded, “On Friday at 1500, I know. I’ll be there.”

She gave him another fond smile and patted his shoulder before turning and leaving the apartment.

Steven’s voice was filled with mild awe as he said, “Your handler is... scary.”

Clinton burst out laughing while James covered his face with a weary hand, “Don’t say things like that until you know for sure she’s gone! She’s evil when she wants to be.”

Clinton calmed down enough to agree, “She certainly can be, yeah. But, it was actually thanks to her that I survived when the rest of my team was taken out. She taught me Russian a while back, so I was able to ask for assistance from a troop that was stationed nearby.”

James leaned forward carefully, “So, you’re really Hawkeye huh?”

Clinton tilted his head to one side and leaned back, “I am, yeah. Though, I’m surprised you know about the arrows thing. That’s still classified as far as I know.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just... so freaking excited to meet you!” James was nearly vibrating, and Clinton was a bit concerned.

Steven chuckled, “He’s not lying. He’s been wanting to meet the famous Hawkeye for years. He’s lost no few O Club fights because of his interest, and people’s willingness to protect you from it.”

“I... what? Why would you get into a bar fight over it?” Clinton was stunned, and a bit confused. He wasn’t at all sure who would defend him, besides Natasha. Most the people he’d known were dead, at least they were now.

Steven simply gave James a look, James in turn looked down at the coffee table and sighed, “I’m not exactly the nicest person ever. And while I can pull rank on a lot of people, doing so out of uniform, and for a non-military reason, tends to get me my ass kicked. Actually, one of the people I lost to was Natasha, and that was just a year or two ago.”

Clinton’s brain stalled out for a moment, “You got in a fight... like, a fist fight? With Natasha... Are you fucking insane?”

James’ mouth opened and closed like a fish, shock clear on every feature as he tried to find a reply the pitchiness of Clinton’s accusation. Steven on the other hand, was folded over holding his stomach laughing.

James’ mouth closed with a click of teeth, he shook his head and looked down at the coffee table again. “I overheard her mention ‘going to see Hawkeye next week’ to the people she was drinking with. At the time I didn’t know them, but it was Maria and Dr. Banner. So, her co-workers... but anyway, um. Well, I bounced over there all the charm I could muster dredged up to the fore, and asked her if I could come with her. Because I’d just _love_ to meet a true Hero.”

He buried his face in his hands, “I didn’t even see it coming, no time to react at all. She just hauled off and punched me in the face. Knocked me on my ass, then she literally kicked me across the room telling me in no uncertain terms that I should stay out of conversations that don’t include me. And that I wasn’t good enough to meet a ‘True Hero’ because I wouldn’t know one if I saw one.”

Clinton winced, “Yeah, that sounds like Nat.”

“She took gleeful vindictive pleasure in being my handler when I was forced to resign last year. The only reason I didn’t ask for someone else on day one, was my damned pride. I figured she couldn’t dish out anything worse than what I’d seen before. I think my not wimping out when she in fact **did** dish out things that were worse, is what finally made her realize I wasn’t as bad as I’d made myself out to be.” James sighed and looked up over his fingers at Clinton, “She wasn’t wrong though. Other than assuming you had been in the military, I certainly couldn’t tell. I mean, you were currently being our hero, but, it, yeah... anyway.”

The blush that covered his cheeks was adorable, and Clinton’s stomach did a somersault. He took a deep breath and let it out, then finally asked. “But, why did you want to meet me?”

A wry smile crooked James’ face, “Because you’re you. One of my best friends from the service was in your unit when that bomb went off, and you drug everyone to the helicopter along with your Sergeant. That you laid down cover fire with a bow and arrows you’d gathered from the enemy, as you weren’t allowed guns for that Op. He came back so mangled, that I kind of used my rank to get me the file on it.”

Clinton shook his head, “Man, you are so full of yourself, holy shit.”

Steven’s laughter had settled and he’d been watching James explain himself with an amused smile, now however he was jumping from his seat again, “Hey!”

Clinton didn’t bother getting up, he just glared over at Steven until the man sank back into his seat. “No, abusing your rank that way is bullshit. Things are classified for a reason, and sure you being high enough rank to be allowed to read the report is fine and dandy, and checking up on a friend is to be commended. But hassling others because, what? You want to thank a person who doesn’t know you, for doing something literal YEARS ago, that they may be trying their best to forget? No, that is not okay.”

He had half a mind to throw them out for the mob to take care of, he was that pissed off. But, there was Lucky, nudging his knee with his nose, big dog eyes imploring him to keep them. “Look, I can understand wanting to meet someone who saved a friend. But, because of that mission I was moved to a more elite team... and our fifth mission, only I three of us survived the initial bombardment, two were captured. It’s not something I like to remember, as it was the last time I didn’t lose anyone on an Op. I mean, you’d think that’d be a reason _too_ remember it, but it’s just depressing that I know it’s the last time. That I... that I failed every time after and lost at least one person. I just...”

Clinton’s eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched, Lucky let out a small whine. Clinton assumed the whine covered the sound of Steven getting out of his chair. Clinton didn’t register the sound of footsteps coming closer, and flinched hard when strong hands closed over his upper arms. His eyes popped open to find a sea of blue staring back at him, absolute faith ebbing towards him from them.

“Hey, one medic can’t save everyone. And if it was an elite team, you were in situations where most people would simply die outright. That you only lost one or two a mission is literally a fricken miracle. You should be proud of that. I realize it probably hurts to think about it, losing people you know always does, but you survived. And by your survival you can continue to help others. Think of the future people you _can_ help, instead of the ones you’ve lost.” Steven didn’t offer a smile, just a solid ‘I’m here for you’ look that sank into Clinton’s soul.

There was a low hiss from the direction of the couch and both Clinton and Steven’s eyes moved over to see James slowly making his way towards them. He carefully knelt down beside Clinton and winced as he placed his flesh and bone hand on his shoulder, brown eyes worried. “I’m sorry. I just, I wanted to meet someone who seemed so much larger than life. I never really thought about how it would make them feel. Thank you though, for everything you’ve done. Especially for what your doing for us now. I really do appreciate it.”

Clinton managed a faltering smile for them, then grunted and gave a pained wince as Lucky jumped in his lap. He wrapped his arms around the dog and buried his face in his fur. “Yeah, yeah, you can have attention too.”

He wasn’t at all sure he was going to be able to handle this. He found James amazingly attractive even if he was proving to be a dumbass, and if Steven was going to look at him like that... there was just no hope he’d get out of their little visit without a broken heart. He hugged Lucky close and basked in the feel of large, warm hands resting on him that weren’t his own. And weren’t holding him down to give him medical attention or worse. He could get used to it... and therein laid the problem.


End file.
